The Broken Dove
by SoulReaperNinja713
Summary: Even though Cynthia was an Assassin, tension remained prominent among her new comrades. Not only that, but the Templars have begun making plans to bring her back. Loyalty, love and friendship will be tested as Cynthia is forced to decide: protect those she loves by returning to her past or lose them altogether by remaining an Assassin? AltOC; MalOC :Sequel to "Target of His Heart":
1. Prologue

Richard the Lionheart silently paced about his room, his hands folded behind his back and his mind reminiscing of everything. His head remained low in deep thought as well as a bit of depression. No expression was written on his face – he was much too distracted to even attempt to make any sort of emotion – as he kept pacing about in his room, trying to collect his thoughts and make sense of them before coming to a conclusion. So many things had happened so fast in the past few months that really made an impact on him and everyone around the city, and lately he had been distracted from it all to do...well, _anything_to actually fix any of it at once. It greatly impacted the things he did during his rule, and it was to a point where he just could not take it anymore. He was unable to truly understand the matters that had fallen onto his lap. For starters, his own daughter – Cynthia Richard – had left her home, leaving him and everything she once cherished behind forever. She ran away with an Assassin – Altaïr, he believed was his name – along with Ada Haksson and Alexandra Benedek, her closest friends. At first, it seemed like yesterday when it all happened, but in reality, it was just a few months back, after Abel - Cynthia's late fiancé - was murdered by his own daughter. At least, that was what the guards said to him when word got out of the Englishman's demise. He, also, figured out just who and what the Templars were, what they were up to for so long.

That was another reason why he had become so distracted from everything that needed attention, but it did not just stop there. The last time he saw his beloved daughter was just last month, standing by the side of Altaïr, after he brutally killed Robert de Sable right before his very eyes. Seeing his daughter so distant, especially from him, broke his heart. Knowing that she had turned her back on everything she was taught, everything she ever learned, hurt him greatly. To make matters worse, he watched Cynthia lace her fingers with Altaïrs', holding onto him and never planning on letting go for even a split second, just before looking over her shoulder and sending him an apologetic look. It was one that would never leave his mind, and maybe it would haunt him for as long as he lived. Since that very day, he had not heard from her or of her whereabouts. No letters came from her to assure her safety, no sightings of her in the cities with any other Assassin, nothing at all. It was as if she no longer existed in the world. It was as if she vanished from the world entirely.

Richard slowly stopped pacing for a moment, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the floor and his own feet. A feeling of guilt and regret filled his body as he continued to think of his daughter. How could he have let this happen? He may not have had anything against the Assassins, but to know his daughter, _his daughter_, was willing to leave him behind and forget everything about her past just to disappear with them broke him. It distracted him from his duties as a King and did not give much time to sleep. The anguish over the disappearance of his daughter hurt him to the core, and he would do anything to try and bring her back safely. Of course, she would try to fight against him, as he could tell she truly loved Altaïr with all her heart and soul added with the fact that they were so engrossed on protecting the people, his people, from the Templars. Still, he wanted to see his daughter again, know that she was truly safe with the Assassins. If he knew that much, he would be content and let her go like he should have from the very beginning.

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. _Well, Jamila_, he thought. _This must be what you meant by when the time is right. When she finally grows up..._

A knock was soon heard at his door, breaking the King from his chain of thought. Composing himself, he turned his head toward the door and called out in a strong tone of voice, one that a King should always have.

"Enter." He commanded, doing his best to keep his leader-like demeanor clear to all his subjects. Just because he was distracted by other matters does not mean he had to show it to anyone else, whether they knew about it or not. In an instant, the door to his bed chambers slowly opened, and a young man of about twenty years of age entered. He quickly bowed respectfully before his King before standing straight and speaking.

"My Lord, you have a guest that wishes to speak with you as soon as possible." He spoke. "It is of the utmost importance." At first, Richard contemplated on whether or not he would like to see anyone. As a King, it was his duty to meet with others who wished to make negotiations or other matters that needed to be brought to his attention. However, instead of going with that simple fact, the King motioned for the man to leave, turning his head away from him.

"Now is not the time for guests," he spoke, making his way over to the window. "I have a lot on my mind and need to make sense of it before I have a chance to worry about other matters. Do tell them to come back at another time."

The young man at first was unsure as to what he should say, but after another second he inhaled.

"But my Lord, the guest says it is of the utmost importance that they see you," the man said. His brown eyes became downcast. "It involves…it involves your daughter Cynthia, my Lord."

Stopping dead in his tracks at the sound of Cynthia's name, Richard quickly looked back at the young man, eyes widening slightly. Surprise filled his eyes and his facial expression in an instant at the mentioning of his daughter's name, one he had not spoken of since he last saw her. iIt had something to do with Cynthia/i, he wondered curiously. Did the person not know about Cynthia's disappearance a few months back after the death of her fiancé? If so, did they only come to send their apologies? That thought caused Richard to frown. He must have; nearly everyone did nowadays. Hell, most of them had witnessed it all and lived to tell the tale! Then again, just because news of what happened spread quickly, it did not necessarily mean _everyone_heard about it. Was it possible that this particular person caught wind of it from a neighboring country? Did he want to stop by to give their deepest apologies or at least assist him - Richard - in his search for her? A thought suddenly sparked in his mind in that moment. Did this person have plans to bring Cynthia back to him in some way, bring her back into his life so he may be able to make amends from the past and start over? If that was the case – and he hoped it was just that – he would bring this person in and speak with him in a heartbeat. However, he would not do that if he planned to send them away without even questioning them. What was he thinking?

Standing tall like a King should have, Richard finally nodded once in the young man's direction.

"Fine, then." He spoke with more confidence in his voice. "Send them in."

"No need to do that, my dear." Their heads turning toward his door, Richard and his subject watched as a slender, hooded figure entered his quarters, shutting the door before turning to face the King. "I would much rather enter the room myself, thank you. I have two legs of my own, you know?"

Richard blinked as the figure took a few steps toward him, passing the young man without so much as a second glance or word of thanks. Based on the way the figure subtly swayed their hips ever so slightly and spoke in what seemed to be a condescending yet mesmerizing tone, he knew immediately that it was a young woman. A woman with a prominent English accent, to be exact, similar to what Abel once had or even thicker than that. Not wanting to be rude, or at least he assumed that was the reason, the woman quickly pushed her black hood off from her face, shaking out her long, charcoal black hair kept back by a dark red ribbon. Dark colored bangs framed over her face and hovered over her eyes, which were a dazzling shade of sky blue. They held a look of mischievousness and evil instead if the innocence and kindness that the King would have predicted her to have. Her chest was purposefully pushed outward slightly, as if she was very confident in herself and in her stride. Her attire, excluding the dark robe that sat over her small shoulders, was that of an English noblewoman; a crimson, short-sleeve blouse, dark colored pants, and black laced up high-heeled boots. Ruby red earrings adorned her ears, and she had on an assortment of necklaces and bracelets , proving the point that she was, indeed, a noblewoman of the English nature.

Before Richard could say anything to the mysterious young woman who had entered his room as if she were some sort of queen, she turned her attention to the young man, who was eyeing her as if she was the most attractive woman he had ever seen in his entire life.

"Be a dear and let us adults do the talking," she spoke in a voice so sweet, it almost seemed..._menacing_. "I greatly appreciate you bringing me here, and I am sure Richard will understand my reasons for…_convincing_ you."

Blushing and nodding furiously in a silent response, he quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him as he left. She watched the door for a long moment, as if she were waiting for the man to take his leave, before returning her attention back to Richard, who was thoroughly confused by the interaction that took place. When he realized she was looking at him, he became serious.

"Who are you?" He questioned before she had a chance to speak up.

A smile appeared on her full lips, and her eyes narrowed in such a manner that it would probably make any man fall to their knees, begging to claim her as their own. Richard, though, was not interested in her seductive manner, whether it was intentional or just an unconscious gesture. Instead, he was much more focused on his daughter and her safety.

"Relax, your Highness," she responded, her English accent very prominent, yet understandable nonetheless. "I am nothing more than a friend. A friend who wishes to help you in your time of need."

He raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Help me? With what, if I may ask?" Even though he knew what her response was, he wanted to pretend not to know what was going on for now.

The woman closed her eyes and began approaching him, her hips swaying with a stride that would tease any man that set her eyes to her. To Richard, as he told himself before, it did not affect him at all, even when she slipped past him and toward the window, revealing a beautiful scenery of woods and forests that his room had to offer.

"I have heard about the events that had taken place a few months back," she spoke, stopping in her tracks, "with your daughter's wedding." She paused for a moment before looking back at Richard, who tensed at the memories of that day. "I am truly sorry for the loss of both your missing daughter Cynthia and your would-have-been son-in-law Abel Tailour."

He looked at her curiously once again.

"You speak as if you have known Abel for some time," said Richard, approaching her slowly. "Is that true?"

She shrugged and looked back out the window.

"I am...a close _friend_...of the Tailour family." She simply stated before turning around to face him, a small, delicate smile gracing her lips. "They were good people, I must say, but I am not here to talk about myself or about the family, but about _you_."

His eyes narrowed slightly, wondering what was up with the strange woman that had entered his domain uninvited and rather unannounced. Something about the woman and her befuddling words, he knew for sure, did not seem to make him trust her as much as he wanted to when he heard that his daughter would be saved, that she would be returned to her safely and soundly. He had a feeling she wanted to help him bring back Cynthia and away from the Assassins. What her reasons were Richard could not deduce. However, something about the way she spoke – so condescending and filled what he perceived to be vanity – made him trust her a little less as time went on. Still, who else did the King know that would be brave enough to actually stand up to the Assassins and bring back his daughter, knowing full well that their life was on the line? He knew the Assassins were a strong group of individuals, fighting off their own enemy and protecting the people, but that did not seem to be the case for others. Apparently, the woman that stood before him, smiling at him with pride and confidence, was that brave person that was willing to stand up to them, sword in hand, and fight them if necessary. All to bring his daughter back to him. As untrustworthy as she was, she was the only person willing to do just that. She was his only hope.

"Just...who are you...?" Richard spoke slowly.

The smile on the woman's face grew as she slowly began walking up to him.

"Gwendolyn is my name, my Lord," she introduced herself. "As you may already be thinking, I am going to and know _exactly_ how to bring your daughter safely back into your welcoming arms..."


	2. The Novice and the Mentor

"Master?" I calmly spoke, bowing low out of great respect before the new Grand Master of the Assassin Order, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. It took me some time to find him, and was quite pleased to find him standing on the cliffside overlooking the city of Masyaf. Evidently, I was about to head up to the castle when I found him with his hands placed behind his back and his white robes dancing in the billowing winds. I glanced upward briefly as he turned to look at me. His eyes were shielded by his own hood after from watching the villagers pass by from down below, watching silently as I stood up straight once more. "I came to ask when training will begin tomorrow, so that I may be prepared?"

As I looked up at his hidden features completely, I took notice to the small, almost unnoticeable smile ghosting his lips as he looked at me. In response to the smile, I quickly returned it out of what appeared to be respect and kindness. From my understanding, no other Assassin that I knew of – the exception being a few – had ever been able to see the smile, as subtle and small as it was in general, that had belonged to Altaïr, the new Grand Master of the Order of Assassins in Masyaf. To know I was one of those few people who had the honor – no – the _privilege_ to see his rare smile with my own two eyes made me feel...well, _honored_, for lack of a more appropriate term. Honored and a little happy all at once. I knew it was rare sight due to the fact that other Assassins would see and find a different leader than the one they had seen for so long – so stoic and calm, yet strong and filled with the leadership that their previous master had once shown before his untimely demise due to his traitorous ways and ideals. Still, it did not mean I or anyone close to him was one of his favorites; he was not the type pick favorites to begin with. Doing so, from my standpoint, would demean other Assassins' strive to become greater and stronger for the Brotherhood. That was something that should be avoided altogether.

"We will continue your training again within the next week," Altaïr stated as we began walking up to Masyaf castle. "I will be showing how to perform your very first leap of faith, so be prepared for that."

Upon hearing those words, I immediately folded my hands together, keeping my excitement on the inside instead of expressing it outwardly in front of others. Around the other Assassins that occupied Masyaf – some, I believed, were extremely serious about their line of work than others, but I was not there to judge – performing such a childish act would seem out of place. Whether I was excited or not about learning something new, I had to learn to remain calm, collected, and focused; be as respectful as one can be, I told myself. In order to repress the urge, folding my hands usually did the trick, as it would keep my hands busy (even though it was an action that required very little work to begin with). Besides, I was no longer the child I had been so many years ago, but a young woman who was to act with at least some maturity in her new line of work.

"Sounds..._exhilarating_, Master." I spoke, smiling warmly up at him. "I suppose I am working my way up the ranks of the Assassins rather well."

He chuckled as he motioned for me to follow him, turning and walking passed me as I started to follow suit.

"Your progress is going very well if you ask me, young novice," Altaïr stated, glancing at me and earning a brief look from me as we entered the castle. "I have worked with many novices before in the past, and I have seen them go through trial and error to make to where they are today. You are no different, but it is as if you had always known what to do, how to act, all your life without any real direction." He looked forward and nodding at two passerby Assassins, who bowed before their Master. "It is almost as if your ancestors before you could have been Assassins."

I shrugged as we began ascending up the stairs leading to the castle.

"I highly doubt that, Master." I stated. "In my opinion, I think being trained by the Grand Master, one who is very well skilled in the art of assassination, is what helps a little." I inhaled deeply. "With your talent and knowledge of the Assassin Brotherhood, it is no wonder why I am picking up the skills required to survive so quickly and fluently."

He looked at me again and said, "The other novices have trained with me back I was a Master Assassin as well. It is no different than the treatment you are getting."

I nodded, acknowledging his words as we entered the castle and made our way up the staircase.

"That is true, Master, and I applaud you for treating me like the others before," I stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "However...there _is_ a minor difference between the other novices that you have trained and myself."

"And what would that be?" He questioned as we made our way to the desk at the opposite side of the room, glancing around to see if others were nearby. Oddly, there was not one there at the moment; possibly off doing important things.

My smile grew as I picked up my pace and stood in front of said desk, forcing away a small hint of pink that had formed on my cheeks, before turning to look back at Altaïr, who had approached the desk as well.

"The difference," I started as I turned around and leaned against it, placing my hands on my lap in a relaxed and comfortable manner, "is that the other novices were not women...nor were in a…marital relationship with the Grand Master."

A smirk spread on his lips face, understanding my meaning, as he stood in front of me. He stared down at me with a gaze that made my heart skip a beat for just a brief moment in time. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he slowly took my face in his hands, keeping his dark colored eyes locked onto mine; they were a pair that I had grown fond as time went by. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly brought my face up to his, closing his eyes as he did so while I did the same, before placing his lips gently against my own and bringing me into a warm, passionate kiss. Smiling, I immediately and without question returned it, shyly wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing him even closer to me. It did not last very long, knowing there could have been others nearby, but to me it felt like an eternity had gone by before the passion had ended. As he broke the kiss, he slowly pushed my hood off, revealing my once hidden face. I sighed contentedly at his touch as it sent a shiver down my spine.

"That is a very true statement," he spoke, his voice filled with all the passion and love in the world, "Cynthia."

Forest green eyes blinked once as I stared into his dark colored eyes, showing him all the love that I had for him since the day I realized I had truly fallen for him, for the man who was meant to be my Assassin and die by his blade. Months had gone by since that very day, and months had gone by since the day my late fiancé, Abel, was killed by my own hands on what was meant to be our wedding day. Memories still flooded my mind as I recalled impaling Abel from behind, thus saving Altaïr's life as he had spared mine. It was around that time, or later than that, since we – we being Ada Haksson and Alexandra Benedek – chose to defect from the Templars, as we no longer wanted to deal with the their ruthless and cruel ways any longer. We wanted to become stronger so that we could have the strength to protect the less fortunate among the Kingdom, just as I had and still thought today. Although the decision was difficult from the start on my part, it became clear to me that I had to join the Assassins not just for Altaïr and to be with him, but to live up to my aunt's – Amal Bendaldija, God rest her soul – name as an Assassin. After her tragic and untimely demise at the hands of Abel, the revelation that I would be joining the Assassins was the only inevitable decision left to choose. It became set in stone when I ended Abel's life, and it became set in stone when I fled the city with him, leaving my Templar uniform and all my belongings to my father.

Saving an Assassin and killing a Templar, in turn, forced me to change sides of this teeter-tottering scale of the war, even if I did not want to.

Two months after everything had settled down with the enemy as well as amongst ourselves – The demise of Altaïr's traitorous master, Al Mualim, took a greater toll on the Assassins than I ever thought, but who could blame them? – we became engaged and got married. We made this decision weeks after Al Mualim's death and making _absolutely_ sure that everything with the Templars had settled down for the time being. We did not wanting to cause any unnecessary trouble than there may have been already, that or increase it. According to Malik Al-Sayf, Altaïr's new right-hand man, he said that Altaïr wanted to make it clear that I was not out for the taking, but belonged to their Master instead. Also, the stoic Assassin that was my husband-to-be wanted to assure the others that I, along with Ada and Alexandra, were not there for show, but to assist them with their plans for peace and in all things and help them in the war against the Templars. Since then, many of the Assassins had become quite used to the fact that we – as ex-Templars – were around to help and not there to spy on them. Some still remained a bit skeptic over the idea of former Templars, which I could not blame them for, but kept silent about it; seeing as there was no point in trying to convince us to leave when it was Altaïr that brought us here in the first place.

Over the past several weeks, Altaïr and some of the other Master Assassins had spent some of their time training the three of us. Occasionally, Altaïr would end training early to attend to more affairs dealing with the Assassins, but the other Master Assassins were truly a great asset. We did not mind the harsh training at all, knowing full well the path to becoming a skilled Assassin was not an easy one, especially since we were women and not used to such vigorousness. Reason being was because I told Altaïr not to give any of us any sort of special treatment during our days of training either, since it seemed unfair that the other Assassins worked hard to reach where they were now. Just because we were both women (and I was to be his wife, it did not mean we had to learn at a different pace than everybody else. Understanding my words, we worked just as hard as everyone else did; training with swords, throwing knives, and completing the art of silent assassination. It was difficult at first – at times I had actually failed miserably – but I never gave up for even a moment and strove to do better. The same thing went for the others; they did their best and worked hard every day whenever they could, and kept trying until they got it right on their own. It was the least we could do, after having been taken in as Assassins despite everything that had happened.

I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind. It was as Altaïr said to me months ago; my past is no more, and I must look to the future.

Blinking once, I removed my hands from around his neck.

"I am still just as surprised as you are by how quickly I am learning your ways," I said, pushing myself off the desk, out of Altaïr's arms, and around the desk. "I have barely been here a year – less than six months even – and already I am picking up the skills I need to become an Assassin like you."

"Maybe somewhere in your family line there was an Assassin, as I had mentioned before," said Altaïr, walking around the opposite side of the desk. "Maybe their skills are passing onto you."

I shook my head as I stopped at the large window.

"And as _I_ said before, I highly doubt that," I responded. "No one in my family has ever been involved with the Assassins…other than trying to eliminate them, of course. Need I remind you who my father is again?"

I sensed him stop next to me.

"True, but there is your mother." He explained. "Is it possible that she was one?"

"She was a Templar, too, Altaïr. My father told me that much."

"And what of Amal? She was one," he suggested. "I thought you said she was an Assassin, too?"

I nodded once, no longer fazed with remorse over the loss of my beloved kin.

"She was, but according to her, she never associated herself with the Assassins themselves until ten years ago, after my father exiled her thanks to the lies of the Templars." I explained. Then, I looked up at him, catching his dark hues locked onto my green ones. "But...it could be possible that I had an Assassin ancestor. Doubtful, in my opinion, but possible."

He chuckled as he took a strand of my light brown hair, keeping his eyes on me.

"One should not doubt the possibility of ancestral ties to the Assassins," he explained. "Whether you were once a Templar or not, there could be Assassins in everyone in some way."

Thin lips spread into a small smile as I said, "Maybe. That could be true, but the Templars would only associate themselves with other Templars; politically, socially, and even romantically. An Assassin bloodline in a Templar lifestyle would be...blasphemy."

He continued to stare at me, scanning my eyes intently, before turning to face me completely.

"Not blasphemy..." he stated. "Maybe fate."

I blinked, confused by his words, before asking, "Fate? How so?"

"An Assassin would not be born in the life of a Templar unless some being wanted it to be that way." He told me, his focus on the sky as the clouds slowly drifted by. "Maybe that person was meant to do something or protect another for a higher purpose. That, or to send a message to someone in the future."

Blinking, I smiled and shook my head.

"Your time with that Piece of Eden has gotten to your head, my love," I stated, turning to scan his desk before looking at the pigeons in their coop. "A message sent through human beings is like telling of legends or stories through word of mouth. It may be untrustworthy and, most likely, false."

I sensed him approach me, placing a gentle hand upon my smaller shoulder. This caused me to look up at him, looking into his dark hues again.

"The future is a mystery to us, Cynthia," he explained, "as is whatever being exists in the sky and around us. Maybe there is such a device that will be able to receive any sort of message that the higher beings would want passed on."

"That may be true," I responded, placing my own hand atop his, "but why is the real question that should be asked. Why would they want to relay a message to the future and not now? What reason would they have in doing such a strange thing?"

"That question, I'm afraid, is one that we may never answer on our own," Altaïr said, looking back at me and into my green eyes.

Before the silence was able to set in completely between the both of us, the sound of rushing footsteps and quick panting was soon heard approaching us rather rapidly. Turning around upon hearing the echoing noises, my curious green hues caught sight of a familiar figure stopping in front of the desk, taking a moment to catch their breath before speaking. The form was hunched over, hands placed against her knees as she took in deep breaths to slow her breathing. After a moment, the person looked up at the both of us, revealing its face as the young Swedish woman Ada Haksson. Like myself, she also wore the uniform that every novice Assassin was required to wear until they reached a higher rank. Her hood was down, revealing that her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep from getting into her face during missions or training with other Assassins. It appeared as if she had done some running to get here and the look on her face gave off a sense of worry (and a little bit of fatigue). That only meant one thing in my mind; something was wrong.

"What is it, Ada?" I questioned, moving around the desk and standing next to her, placing a gentle hand on her back. "You seem troubled by something."

When she regained her breathing, she stood up straight and looked at me.

"It's Alexandra," she said, brows furrowed with worry. "She's…she's arguing with Malik again."

I raised an eyebrow, but did not appear surprised at all.

"What now?" I asked, wondering what they were arguing about this time.

"Well, Malik made a remark about Alexandra being stubborn when it came to learning new techniques, and she snapped at him, claiming that she was not. Last time I heard them she was threatening to kill him if he did not stop making accusations."

I sighed and shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Not this again," I muttered. "I told her not to let him get into her head or bad things would happen."

"Then I suppose Malik is right," commented Altaïr, who also moved over to where we stood. "She can be stubborn."

"I am sure she does not mean to act in such a manner, Altaïr," I assured him. "She is never one to be stubborn about a lot of things. Accusations could be one way, but it depends on whether it is true or not."

"Whatever the case may be, she's threatening the life of another because of it. We must go to them and settle this before it gets out of hand."

"That I can agree with," I nodded before looking at Ada. "Where are they, Ada?"

She said nothing in response, but instead pointed toward the window, giving me the impression that they may have been nearby. Blinking, Altaïr and I turned to look at it before quickly making our way to it once more. When we stood in front of it again, we looked down toward the training ground, only to find the familiar sight of Alexandra Benedek scolding a rather calm looking Malik Al-Sayf. She appeared to be saying something in an angered fashion to him before turning away, running a hand through her dark hair frustratedly. It was at that point that Malik said something else, something we could not here, but it made me worry as Alexandra turned around abruptly. I saw a flash of her eyes; angered and enraged. I knew that meant trouble; whenever she turned around like that with a wild and angered look, it meant that she was now at a point where she would kill someone. Unfortunately, that person was going to be Malik if the situation continued to get worse, and that was one person I did not want to lose. Swallowing hard, I turned around again. Before Altaïr could say anything, I looked at him and smiled.

"I'll handle this, Altaïr," I assured him. "I've seen her this way before and not exactly how to handle it."

He stared at me for a long moment, before nodding once.

"I believe it would be best." He said as I walked around the desk. "Better to let someone with experience to handle a situation like this."

Nodding, I sent him a temporary farewell before making my way over to the staircase. This day was going to be interesting for all of us.


	3. Bickering Assassins

"How _dare_ you say such a thing like that to me?! How could you even think that let alone say it out loud and to my face?"

"I do not like to assume things that may or may not be true, _novice_, especially about people I do not know. However, judging by how defensive you are becoming on the subject, it makes me wonder if my assumptions are, indeed, true."

"Your judgment of character is off, Malik! And refrain from referring to me as a novice! Just because I am new to the Brotherhood does _not_ make me a weakling! I have told you that numerous times!"

"As an Assassin, you _can_ be considered weak, and based on how recently you have come to joining us, it makes you a novice. Also, the training you have received from the Templars may very much be different in comparison to ours."

"If you would stop demeaning me and treating me as though I cannot handle it, you will see just how capable I really am in a fight!"

Sighing as the argument finally came to my ears, I quickly walked down the trail toward the growing voices of Malik and Alexandra. They were grower louder and louder as I approached the location, and I knew Alexandra was becoming more and more agitated with Malik judging by her voice. What exactly he said, though, was unknown to me; I had arrived to late to find out just what he said. I would not know that much until I asked either one of them. Reaching to the bottom of the hill, I looked over to find the two in question standing near the training ring. Alexandra was poised in a manner that showed she was going to leap at him, attacking him relentlessly until he either took back what he said or, worse than that, die. Unfortunately, according the Altaïr, Malik was never one to back down from speaking his mind. The former Dai spoke his mind quite often, caring less about whether or not someone did not want to hear it. This just so happened to be the case with Alexandra. She was upset by what he had said to her, and was possibly considering the different ways she could silence him for good. That was the one reason why I had come here when I did.

Walking a little quicker to prevent anything serious from occurring, I approached the two, keeping a calm demeanor very similar to Malik.

"What is going on here?" I called them. Within seconds, they both looked at me; Malik continued to keep his calm demeanor, while Alexandra still held a death glare in her brown colored eyes. However, they softened only slightly as she looked at me. "Ada came rushing inside to tell Altaïr and I that you two were arguing again."

The glare returned in Alexandra's eyes as she looked back at Malik, her longer, dark colored hair - which was pulled into a braid now - returning to its hanging position on her back.

"I apologize if I had worried Ada with my…outbursts, Cynthia," she said through gritted teeth, "but this…_insensitive_ man continues to call me a stubborn and weak novice, claiming that I cannot handle the training the Assassins have gone through!"

Malik looked back at her and said, "I am not saying you cannot handle the training, Alexandra. What I am saying is that your acting as stubborn as a child, wanting to push off your training to a later date. Until you feel ready to work with us. That is not how training works."

"Instead of pushing the training on me as roughly as you are, Malik," she scolded him, "maybe I would not act in such a manner and listen to you for once!"

"I cannot simply wait until you decide when you wish to train on your own." His brows furrowed in frustration. "What would happen if the Templars arrived and attacked Masyaf? Would you be prepared to face them in the condition you are in?"

"Of course I would!" She retorted. "I used to side with them and train alongside them! You speak as if I have never held a sword in my life!"

"Judging by your fighting stance, I would say you never even held a small knife."

An offended look crossed Alexandra's face, but before she had the chance to say anything in a heated response, I quickly placed both of my hands on their shoulders and pushed them apart a little.

"Both of you, stop it!" I exclaimed, grabbing their attention. "All of this fighting and bickering is not going to solve anything!"

"I'm not the one who is fighting with her, Cynthia," said Malik, looking at me once again . "I am simply stating that she," He looked at Alexandra again, "is acting like a child who is unwilling to work with what she has."

"If you were not acting so much like my warden and treating me like some prisoner of war," the Hungarian retorted, "I would be more than happy to work with you!"

"You should be happy to work with me in the first place. You have the honor of training with someone who knows the Assassins better than you ever would in a lifetime."

"Enough!" I shouted again. They looked at me as I went on. "Look, I understand that you two have come to an impasse. Everything is new to us." Malik knew I was referring to Alexandra as well as Ada and myself. "However, fighting and arguing is not going to solve the matter. Both of you will have to work something out in order to truly work together happily and efficiently." I smiled. "Maybe you both could come up with a time frame that works best for the both of you."

Malik frowned and said, "No time frame will ever work with this," He pointed to Alexandra, "woman. I told her that she needs to be willing to train when I say so to better prepare herself as an Assassin, yet she continues to complain and refuse."

Alexandra groaned and turned away, not wanting to listen to him anymore, as I said, "Well, why don't you try a different approach? You can't simply force new ideals on a person who is still trying to learn." I glanced at Alexandra. "She is a...very complex person. I would know."

"She seems more stubborn than complex," Malik stated blandly. "Her parents should have raised her to have a little more respect toward her elders."

It was too late to stop those words as he said them outloud and in front of us, and it surprised me that he even thought of saying it in the first place. Horrorstruck and a little fearful, my eyes widened as I looked back at Malik. Before I did that, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Alexandra's eyes widened with shock, her thin lips ajar and about as horrified by the words spoken as I was. Judging by the look on the Dai's face, it was clear that he was unsure as to what he said, looking between the both of us with a questioning gaze. After a few more seconds of silence, Alexandra was the first to speak.

"What…did you say…?" She questioned in a low, almost menacing tone.

I looked back at her quickly; immediately, I saw her expression change from shock…to blank. _Oh no…_ I thought asI stood in front of her quickly, placing my hands on her shoulders.

"Alexandra…" I spoke. "Don't…"

Unfortunately, she no longer heard my voice as she gently pushed me to the side, her gaze remaining on Malik. Even though it was not showing, I could sense her becoming more and more enraged as she recalled what he said to her moments ago. Malik, however, was still oblivious to what was happening.

"I asked you a question…" Her voice hardened. "_What…did…you…say…?_"

He remained silent for a long moment, staring into her brown eyes as if he was trying to figure her out, before saying, "If you did not hear me the first time, I said your parents should have raised you to have a little more respect for your elders."

That was the single straw that broke the camel's back several times over. It was when he repeated himself that caused Alexandra to snap as if he just stepped on a twig in a bleak and almost empty forest. Within seconds, I suddenly leapt back a little just as Alexandra's blade came swinging at Malik. Fortunately, he was just as quick as she was, since I watched him draw his own blade as quickly as she had suddenly snapped. When I looked back at Alexandra, the anger and rage that I had sensed before was now clear on her face and in her eyes. She was greatly angered by the words Malik had spoken, and I knew the reason why she was that way. The former Dai, though, had absolutely no idea what had done that would have caused such an increase in anger and a motivation to strike him down, and I could not blame him for it. He had absolutely no idea what went wrong, and if he had known maybe he would have been a little more sensitive about prying on a touchy subject. However, when I looked back at him, he kept on his calm demeanor as if what was happening just was not going on at all. My brows furrowed with question as I kept my distance. _What are you thinking, Malik?_

"Take…your words back, Al-Sayf…" She hissed, pushing her blade against his even more. "Take them back or I will use your head as my trophy!"

It took a moment for Malik to recall what he said, since he was busy holding back Alexandra, before a small smile graced his lips. He had an idea, or he already had one and was putting it into play.

"So it seems mentioning your family is your weakness," he spoke. I looked around, noticing the other Assassins that were nearby gathering around to observe what was happening. "Maybe I could use this to push you into doing as I say."

"TAKE IT BACK NOW, OR I WILL CUT YOU DOWN AND INTO PIECES!" She screamed, pushing her blade off his before swinging again.

Malik had moved back as her sword came down onto the ground. It took him a split second to bring his sword upward, slicing her shoulder a bit and drawing a little blood. She flinched at the pain that was inflicted upon her, but did not cry out in pain as she looked up at him and attempted to swing her sword again. He countered by parrying her blade, moving it into an almost full circle, before planting it into the ground again.

"If you wish to fight me head on," he started as he moved over toward the ring, "then you must face me as all other Assassins face one another." As he said that, he placed his only hand on the railing and leapt over it, keeping a good drip on his blade as he did so, before walking toward the center. Teasingly, he turned around and, using his blade, urged Alexandra to enter the ring. "Come, ex-Templar. Show me the kind of training you received from your former comrades. From your Templar parents."

It was enough of a motive for Alexandra. Growling, she stood, but at the same time I moved over to her.

"Alexandra, don't!" I exclaimed, but was unable to stop her as she mimicked Malik's previous actions and leapt over the wooden railing. It was clear she was ignoring the injury on her shoulder and was focusing more on taking him down than anything.

"You taunt me by using my own family," she spoke, moving to circle around him as if she was a lion stalking her prey. "I am not stupid, Malik. I know what you are trying to do."

"If you know, then why do you not silence me with your blade?" He questioned, taunting her while swinging his blade. "You have the capability to do so, so why not do it now?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Just because I know what you are up to does not mean I will not kill you for trying," she hissed, pointing her blade at him and stopping in her tracks. She now stood behind him, watching him intently.

"Do not hesitate to kill your enemies, Alexandra," Malik told her, the grip on his blade tightening, "because they may have more tricks up their sleeves than you may already know."

She laughed before saying, "We shall see how I fair against your tricks, Malik. Then you will have no choice but to treat me as an equal!"

With that, she lunged at him forcefully, blade positioned in her hand in a manner that would stab him in the back. Just as I was about to jump in to stop them, a hand fell upon my shoulder. I stopped and looked up, finding the familiar eyes of Altaïr looking down at me before looking back at the two in the ring. When I looked back as well, the sound of clashing swords was heard as Malik turned around quicker than I ever thought possible, blocking the blade that would have impaled him. He parried Alexandra's sword upward, leaving her open to attacks. However, instead of finishing her as she would have down to him, he simply pressed the tip of his sword to her stomach and pushed her back. It was not enough to stab and kill her, but it was just enough to draw some blood. She seemed unfazed by what he had done, and simply went after him again.

"Malik is a skilled fighter, Cynthia," Altaïr assured me. "He may only have one arm, but he knows how to handle a blade very well."

"Are you sure," I asked. "Alexandra may be angered over Malik's words, but during a fight she is extremely focused and swift."

Altaïr smirked and said, "It does not seem that way right now."

Curious, I looked back at the fight, only to catch Malik's blade slicing her stomach and forcing her to move back. Her hand fell upon the wound, but it was not enough to stop her. Not wanting to take a break just for that, Alexandra swung her blade almost immediately. Unfortunately, she was unable to draw blood, but caught the front of his robes and tore them a bit. Looking over the Hungarian a bit more, I realized just how frustrated she was becoming over the fact that she barely even touched him or drew blood. She did not want to be bested by her Mentor so easily; plus, she did not want him to get away with speaking of her parents so carelessly as he did. Even though it seemed like she was defending her family name, defending her parents, I knew that it was quite the opposite. Instead, she wanted to prove that she did not need the help of her parents, since there was more to them than she put off. The fact that Malik claimed they did not teach her well enough upset her greatly.

I wanted to stop this unnecessary fighting that was going on, not wanting either of them to get hurt in the end; but if Altaïr was right about his words, then Malik may have had the chance to put Alexandra in her place and teach her a thing or two. As much as I did not want that to happen, there was nothing I could do to stop it now. Still, the only reason why this fight was going on in the first place was because Malik unconsciously said something that he should not have said, using it to his advantage against the novice. Alexandra was only angering herself because she was thinking of the matter, thus inducing a reaction to try and cut him down and prove him wrong. However, due to Malik's years of experience over hers, I feared the worst may come to my dear friend should the fight continue as it was.

"I thought your parents taught you better than this," Malik taunted, side-stepping out of the way of Alexandra's sword. "Remaining on the offensive will only result in more injuries from your opponent."

"My parents never taught me anything, you insensitive bastard!" She shouted, swinging her sword horizontally at his head only for it to be caught by Malik's blade. "I know exactly how to fight, so do not baby me as if this is my first time!"

His face remained calm briefly before he smirked.

"If that is the case," he started, but before he could finish, he parried her sword and knocked it clean out of her hand. Distracted by the sudden move, he took the opportunity to kick her back into the railing, causing her fall against it, flip over it and fall flat on her shoulders and neck before her stomach and face. It was not enough to snap her neck and kill her, but it was enough to leave her lying on the ground and unmoving, almost as if she was knocked unconscious. Her blade fell onto the floor next to her, just missing her body by a few inches. "Then why is it that you have lost this fight?" Malik finished as he moved over to the railing to look at her.

Unable to stand there helplessly, I moved over to her to see if she was alright.

"Alexandra," I spoke. Looking down at her face, I noticed the intense glare in her eyes, knowing that she had lost to the man who coaxed her into fighting by mentioning her parents. She did not respond to me, but she did react. Moving her arms, she slowly moved herself into a kneeling position, keeping her head low in shame while the group of Assassins that were there clapped and cheered for their comrade over his victory. She felt disgusted with herself, and I felt that there was nothing I could say to make her feel better.

"Now you understand," said Malik, "what it means to train when you _know_ you will need it." She did not respond, but instead kept her head low. "Were I a Templar, I would have put a blade to your throat before you even had the chance to stand up and retaliate." Once again, she did not respond. He noticed the sudden change in her demeanor, noting how she was not responding to what I believed to be minor taunts. "If it makes you feel better…" He paused briefly, "I apologize for bringing your parents into this and using them against you."

This time, she reacted. She glared up at him harshly, still fuming over the fact that he even mentioned the two people she lived with for much of her life. However, instead of attempting to hurt him, she lowered her head again.

"Do it again," she muttered, "and my blade falling between your eyes will be the last thing you see."

He chuckled as he turned away.

"That is…if your training from the Templars will be enough to take me down." He looked over his shoulder. "Judging by the way you fought today, perhaps I will be the victor once again."

Suddenly, Alexandra reached for her blade and tried to attack him again, but I quickly leapt on her and pinned her to the ground. There had been enough fighting for one day, and to allow Alexandra to be beaten a second time would not be good on her part. Her pride had already taken a huge hit, and I refused to have that a second time.

"Enough, Alexandra!" I shouted. Her eyes remained on Malik for a long moment, glaring as if her eyes could kill, before looking back at me. Her brown eyes softened when she looked at me, and I understood what was going through her mind. She felt hurt, ashamed for having lost and allowing Malik to nearly get away with his words. "You have had enough for one day, my friend. Do not let his words bring you down any further than they have already."

Without another word, Alexandra slowly pushed me off her before getting to her feet and storming off, sheathing her sword and lifting her hood over her face to hide herself. I watched her go for a long moment, feeling helpless for words, before lowering my eyes a little. I was not mad at her nor was I mad at Malik for what had happened. It was a careless mistake; on Malik's part because he did not know the meaning behind his words, and on Alexandra's part for reacting the way she did. It was all due to the emotions that were given off on both sides, which fed the fires to ignite the fight. Not only did Alexandra want Malik to take back his words, but she also wanted to prove to him that she was a capable fighter and be able to fight on her own. Unfortunately, it did not exactly end in her favor as she wanted. Granted, he did apologize for saying the things he said, knowing that they hurt her in some way, but she did not win the fight against him. As short as it was, she still wanted to prove herself to him, prove that she could handle her own. In the end, though, it did not end that way. That was why she appeared upset, angered over her loss, but kept silent to avoid any further dueling.

Looking up, I noticed Altaïr move over to me, lending me a hand to lift me off the ground. Without hesitation, I took it and allowed him to help me off the ground.

"There must be a lot that goes through her mind," I heard Malik say, though he did not look at me. Instead, I noticed him watching Alexandra. "Her parents…I am assuming they were not the best people when she was a child."

Lowering my eyes briefly, I looked back in the direction Alexandra was moving to.

"You could say that," I muttered. "If only I could say they were really her parents, but from her standpoint, they were nothing but strangers to her." My head lowered a bit. "In a way, she trained herself more than the Templars did..."

To my surprise, Malik said nothing more on the matter; when I looked at him again, I noticed a look in his eyes that surprised me. It was a look of pure guilt.


	4. The New Recruits

_**Two Days Later…**_

_**General**_ _**POV**_

Two days had passed within the city of Masyaf. The inhabitants lived out their daily routines, while lower ranked Assassins trained in the courtyard. Not much had been said since the duel between Alexandra and Malik, since people did not wish to speak about it for fear of her actually hearing about it. She did not complain, according to Malik anyway, about the training since then, and did just as he said without question. She was still fumed about the whole ordeal, but said nothing on the matter. Malik had no complaints; he was glad to see she was actually complying with the training she was being given, and hoped that she would become better and better. Of course, he was going a little easy on her due to the injuries he inflicted on her, but it was enough work to show some progress. That was what Cynthia hoped for as well. She wanted the two to put their differences aside for a while and just work together, and it seemed that was just what they were doing. Granted, Alexandra did not exactly appreciate it all, yet Cynthia was still proud to know her dear friend, after much sulking was sucking in her pride and her dignity and working as hard as everyone else again.

As for Cynthia, she was very busy studying and learning more and more about the prestigious Leap of Faith that Altaïr had mentioned, one that all Assassins were required to learn. According to him, it had been passed down through many generations; it was meant to be a part of our initiation, to be known as an Assassin of the Order. The ex-Templar and daughter of Richard feared that she may slip up and plummet to her death at the bottom, coming up with some scenario that would come together, but was occasionally assured that a pile of hay would be on the bottom to catch her. Any serious injuries that may come would most likely be avoided in the end, but the whole ordeal would have been easy. Maybe there would be an occasional bruise depending on the angle of the fall, but it was nothing too serious to be a major problem for her.

"Simply inhale deeply, clear your mind of all doubts, and jump," he told her. "It will feel as though you are flying. As if you are free."

Those words assured her greatly, and it made her smile just thinking about it. Finally, she was going to be a part of the Order that would truly help her people in the end. She was starting to become more and more acquainted with her comrades and even started training with them. She worked hard along with Ada and Alexandra, and she was starting to feel more and more welcomed amongst the Brotherhood. However, there would always be one person in the group who would not come to accept her as easily as the others. And it would be this person that would push Cynthia to the edge.

_**Cynthia's POV**_

"New recruits?" I questioned curiously as Altaïr paced about the desk.

He looked at me from under his hood, gaze hidden by the darkness, and said, "That is correct. We will be receiving some for our cause." I noticed a small smile on his lips. "We will be adding another woman to the Brotherhood as well. She is accompanied by her elder brothers."

I blinked and asked, "Another woman?"

"Yes," he went on. "One of the Assassins located in Damascus found her and her brothers left abandoned in the street. They claimed their father was once an Assassin as well, but was killed by a group of Templars that ransacked their home. We are not sure from where, as we had no information about this man, but the Informer wanted to bring the girl here and have her join our ranks." He paused. "He thinks they will be capable warriors."

"That's wonderful," I responded with a light grin. "It is good to see we will have some more women amongst us and helping the cause. It will give others the chance to feel important and make a difference in this world." Altaïr was silent for a long moment, stopping in his tracks before looking out toward the window. He said nothing in response, and I noticed a sudden change in demeanor. Worried, I walked around the desk toward him. "Altaïr? Is something the matter?" I questioned.

"This particular person - the woman - does not exactly like the Templars," he explained.

My eyebrow raised as I stood next to him, a smile gracing my lips.

"We are all that way, are we not?" I asked him. "I thought the Assassins were out to put a stop to the Templars for good? To give people the proper freedom they desire? And besides, they killed her father. She has every right to despise them."

I noticed his eyes shift briefly.

"What I mean," he started, "is that she knows who you are…well, once were…and will not trust you. Any of you."

My smile soon fell at his words, realizing what he meant. I took a step back and looked away from him.

"Oh…" I muttered. "I…I really do not like the sound of that."

I felt his eyes fall upon me before asking, "Are you alright?"

I remained silent for a long moment before sighing.

"I never realized there were people out there who truly think that every Templar is the same exact way as they are perceived, so brutish and cruel." I muttered. "I may have been one of them in the past, but…but I would never think of going as far as to force others unto one lifestyle." I paused before turning to look at him, realizing how close he was to me now. "Maybe she does not understand that some Templars are doing what they feel is right and wish to go about it a different way. Maybe she does not realize that…that my friends and I have changed for the better."

His head lowered once again as he said, "That is not the case with this woman. She does not believe people change so suddenly as you have. In her mind, she thinks that once someone is a Templar, that person will remain the same until they die."

My face fell as I asked, "Even if I try to convince her otherwise?"

"From what I am told, unfortunately."

A sigh escaped my lips as I moved over to the desk, placing my hands on it and keeping my head down. I still found it hurtful that people would think of me as some monster; then again, I could not blame them entirely. Most of the Templars were exactly the same when it came to the civilians. They cared little for their opinions and forced them to conform to their way or life or suffer the consequences. I knew I was nothing like them. Instead of forcing the beliefs I once followed, I allow them to live out their lives as they so choose, giving them the freedom to believe what they wanted and not what the Templars wanted. I never would even consider going so far as to kill someone who thought differently than I. It was…well, unethical, for lack of a better term. Not everyone will believe in the same God I do and it was vice versa. That being said, I had no right trying to change the minds of others into believing that my God was real and that He was much better than all others in existence. That was how I viewed the Templars. Although they claimed it was to bring peace and order to the world and all who live in it, their actions told me otherwise. I was most likely one of the many reasons why I did not with them as easily as I would have liked to.

After a long moment, I felt his hand fall upon mine. I looked at him, staring into his eyes with my own worried green hues. He could tell that I was fearful of what was to come when it involved someone who hated _all_ Templars, changed or not. Yet, when I looked at him, I noticed how his mind was reeling. He was trying to figure out some way for the situation to work and have this newcomer work with us efficiently and effectively. If she was going to cause problems, then everything was going to fall apart. Stubbornness was one thing that was not tolerated - even if there were some who like that, at least they had the common courtesy to push it off for a mission. If this person was unable to do that, how would we survive? The answer: we would not survive. It was the reason why the Assassins have survived for so long. They put their differences aside in order to achieve their one true goal: peace in all things. If one person holds a grudge against another for petty reasons, then the entire group would fall apart and no progress will be made. And no progress meant success for the Templars.

Lowering my eyes, I leaned my head against his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck.

"I suppose we could try to change her over time," I said finally, staring at the corner of a bookcase. "I mean, it may take…a lot of time…but I think she can change."

Altaïr remained silent for a moment before asking, "Do you think it will work?"

I shrugged.

"I do not, but we cannot know for sure until we try."

* * *

"Master, our new recruits have arrived." Spoke the Informer, motioning for the three figures to step forward. Altaïr and I did not leave from the desk, but changed positions so that we stood at the window. I chose to keep my hood up for the time being, trying to avoid any awkward situations between the female newcomer and myself.

"It is an honor to meet the Grand Master of the Order," the tallest one spoke, pushing his hood off to reveal a man no older than thirty years or so with straight black hair. It was pulled back into a low ponytail and revealed his oval shaped face, rounded brown eyes, and the stubble lining his chin. His garbs were hidden by the white cloak he wore over his shoulders, as if he were disguising himself as one of the scholars from the city. He appeared taller than myself, and may have been around Altaïr's height - give or take a few inches shorter than the Grand Master. He was also rather built, possibly having trained for many years before his father's untimely demise. "My name is Dabih Halabi, the eldest son." He looked to his siblings. "This is my brother, Merak."

"An honor to make your acquaintance, Master," he spoke, his voice sweet and respectful toward the both of us. Pushing his hood off, he revealed himself to be a younger man, close to his mid-twenties, with short blond hair and rounded, hazel colored eyes. He reminded me of the desert or a lion, but the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice said otherwise. He appeared taller than myself, maybe by several inches. Also, he was a little thinner than his elder brother, but looked like a capable fighter if left on his own.

"And the younger one over here," Dabih pointed to the more feminine figure just as her hood fell off, "is my youngest sister, Cristabel." Instantly, her piercing, deep set blue eyes were the first thing that caught my eyes. Her heart shaped face were accentuated by raven colored hair framing over her forehead. It extended down her back, but probably reached the middle of it. It was straight, too, as if untouched by time since the day she was born. She was small in height, maybe a few inches shorter than myself, but did not appear so innocent. Her almond shaped eyes held a blank gaze, scanning over the both of us as if trying to remember the appearances of her Mentor and…well, novice. They did not realize that I was the Grand Master's wife. Still, I was sure it would not take them long to find out who I was. Unfortunately, for the first time, it was something I was starting to dread.

Cristabel said nothing to us, but bowed her head low to show respect. Dabih simply looked at her before looking at us once again.

"Do not worry," he assured us, "she speaks, but very little. When she does, she…tends to say the things on her mind."

"An honest woman," said Altaïr, observing her briefly before looking at me. I continued to look at the new recruits before looking at my husband. It was then that the question came up.

"If I may ask, Master," Merak spoke, his voice a bit humble, "but who is the Assassin that stands with you? I wish to acknowledge him and make his acquaintance." We both looked at him around the same time, which caused him to shrink back a little in a nervous manner. I sent him a reassuring smile, but said nothing for the moment. I was not offended by the term he used to define me, since the attire made me appear as such in some ways. Besides, he was not aware of the situation, but he would soon.

"This young Assassin is new to our ranks as well. She is one of the first out of three Assassins to be a woman," Altaïr explained, moving his hand to brush against mine. Cristabel looked at me this time, yet I said nothing as he went on, "She along with two others joined a few months back, but were unable to join due to the previous Grand Master's rules."

Merak's eyes widened.

"A woman?" He questioned. Then, he looked at his sister. "Looks like you will not be alone after all."

"Yes," Cristabel muttered in a low tone, her eyes never leaving me. "So it would seem…"

Dabih glanced at the two briefly before looking back at us; there was something in his eyes that told me he was a bit flustered about something, but I quickly found out what it was when he spoke.

"If I may ask, Master, but is she your wife?" He asked, earning the gazes of his younger siblings immediately. Merak held a look that questioned why his brother would ask such a question to people they just met. Dabih simply looked at them nervously; it was a question he wanted to avoid asking, but his curiosity got the better of him.

While a smile to assure him that neither of us were offended, I took this opportunity to answer, "Yes. I am his wife."

The three looked back, but only the two brothers remained surprised. Cristabel, on the other hand, remained the same.

"Well," said Merak, feeling fluster over the news, "it is an honor to meet the bride of the Master, as surprising as it is." I simply nodded as he went on to ask. "What is your name, madam?"

Anxiety ran through me for a moment, but I pushed the feelings away and replied, "Cynthia. My name is Cynthia."

If the tension was not noticeable before, then it was now. Silence suddenly between all of us as Merak's eyes widened slightly. Dabih's gaze fell toward Cristabel, whose expression I feared the most. I felt myself pale under the now hardened gaze of the female Halabi. Her eyes were something that I feared the most since I heard about her arrival; the look she had told me she recognized my name, thus may have recognized just who I really was. Since she held a strong hatred for the Templars, I was sure she was going to dub me similar to all the others. Our relationship would now be strained, or worse completely severed entirely. _If only she would give me a chance to explain myself,_ I told myself, swallowing the lump in my throat. Maybe she would have enough heart to hear my plea about my change, our change. If she knew just how dedicated I was to the Assassins and realize that the Templar ways were wrong, maybe things would be better. Maybe our relationship as friends would not be as…awkward as it would be if she were to hate me. I felt myself nibble on my lower lip; the only way to find out was to speak to her myself.

"As in…Cynthia Richard…" Cristabel was the first to speak, breaking the already tense silence between us. "The daughter of King Richard…?"

It did not take me long to nod once, and immediately I noticed Altaïr grow a little tense; he was preparing himself for what I knew was to come.

"Y-yes," I responded, accidentally stuttering a bit. "That is correct."

Cristabel's jaw locked immediately, and her eyes hardened even more. Before I had the chance to react, she was already approaching me, a small knife in hand. Taking several steps back, I watched as her brothers caught her on either side and held her back, pulling her away from me just as Altaïr stood in the way. She was furious, enraged, and I could also see a look of betrayal in her eyes now. Did she feel betrayed that the Grand Master of the Assassins was married to a Templar - well, former Templar? No doubt that had to be it, but I would not know.

"Why is _she_ of all people here?" She hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she kept her eyes on me. "How can you let that monster among us? You should be killing her and her friends, destroying them and putting them down like the filthy dogs they are!"

"Cristabel!" Dabih explained.

"No, she's right," I responded, moving to stand next to Altaïr again. He looked at me briefly, but said nothing as I went on. "In a way, her words ring true." I removed my hood to reveal my face, but that only angered her more. "The Templars must be stopped from enforcing their ways on others, spreading lies about peace and order. However, I am no longer one of them nor have I been for as long as I can remember."

"Lies!" She shouted, struggling to get out of her brothers' grips. "Templars do not change their ways so suddenly unless it was for some motive to destroy the Assassins. One would never associate with us, but instead seek to destroy us."

"Only the true followers seek the demise of the Assassins, Cristabel," I explained to her calmly. "I only sought to bring peace to my people in my own way, in a way that would allow them to live the way they wanted to without the dangers of being murdered."

"You may have fooled the great leader of the Grand Master, Richard, and you may have even fooled my brothers. But not I." She struggled briefly against her brothers' grip before remaining stagnant. "You will not brainwash me with your lies of peace for the people. It was people like you that took away my father. If you really cared for him and your people, you could have stopped it." I remained silent, my eyes widening a little. "You're just like all the other Templars out there: heartless, selfish, and only thinking for yourself!"

"That's enough, sister!" Dabih scolded her. "You do not know her as well as her friends or even the Master himself. These accusations will lead you nowhere!"

"Then I will prove it!" She forced herself out of their grip, but instead of trying to attack me, she remained in her spot and looked at her elder sibling. "One of these days, I will prove to you that Cynthia Richard and her friends are nothing but a bunch of spies for the Templars, and I will murder them like they murdered my father." She looked at me again. "Mark my words, Cynthia. Your demise is coming sooner than you think. I swear on my life, I will expose you for the person you really are. I will show you no mercy, even when I am driving my blade into your throat."

With those words said, she turned and walked away from us, storming away in an attempt to avoid me. My heart seemed to drop in my stomach as I watched her leave. I was shocked to find out just how much hatred she had for the Templars; and here I thought Alexandra was bad. Cristabel was extremely stubborn when it came to the Templars, assuming their one way of life goes for everyone in association with the Templars. Explaining myself on behalf of my friends and I was going to be more difficult than I thought. With a death wish on my head (and maybe the others), I feared that she may find something and link it to the three of us, use it as an excuse to have us eliminated. Surely Altaïr would be quick to defend us, but what about the other Assassins? They were just as skeptic about Alexandra, Ada and I coming here in the first place. If they had someone who would take a stand against us, I feared the amount of people who would stand alongside her. They would demand Altaïr to either get rid of us or have us executed. As my husband, I knew he would be against all of that, knowing that we were good at heart. Unfortunately, if he still supported them, how long would it be before someone - Cristabel, maybe - snuck into our homes and killed us off? Even if I wanted to go back, how would my own people feel about my sudden defection, about how I was the murderer of Abel?

I felt myself sit on the desk, my hand falling on my lap. The thought of my people made my heart ache with pain, recalling the words Cristabel used against me. She claimed that if I truly cared for my people, then her father would still be alive today. It hurt to know that I may have failed in protecting my people, and the words Cristabel spoke really hit her to her core. To know such a thing made me feel as though leaving the Templars was the wrong choice. Yet, I left for them. I defected and joined the Templars so that I may truly have a chance at protecting them in the manner I said I would. Granted, people I once knew may never look at me the same way again, but my heart kept telling me it for the best. However, in the way Cristabel worded it, it made me feel like the monster she made me out to be. There was nothing in the world that would keep me from preventing the safety and freedom my people deserve, but the whole defection was now starting to sound like a bad idea. Was it really, though? Was everything I worked so hard at trying to achieve a waste of time? There was no answer to that question, but I was still afraid that it would be yes.

"I…I apologize for her behavior," Dabih spoke up once he was sure Cristabel had left. "It's just that…well…our father…she was close to him, and-"

"It is...alright," I interrupted him, my head remaining low. "I understand, and I am not mad at her. She has every right to hate what I was…"

I felt Altaïr's hand fall on my shoulder, yet for the first time in a long while I was unable to look at him. For the first time since I had been here, I truly felt like I was his enemy. For the first time, I felt like a monster.


	5. Two Days Later

_**Two Days Later…**_

Two more days had gone by since our newest recruits arrived, and the situation between Cristabel and I were not any better. She had been avoiding me and my friends ever since the argument; it did not take long to figure out who my friends were, and she went with avoiding us completely. I still tried to make attempts at talking to her, but she would give me the cold shoulder and walk away, the anger that was eminent from the day we first met still radiating. Alexandra asked what her problem was, since she did not do anything to Cristabel that would cause her to despise the Hungarian. When I explained the situation, she seemed a little upset; she hated the fact that Cristabel had judged us so quickly without even giving us the chance to explain ourselves. She hated people like that, but went against starting trouble again. After the humiliation that she endured with Malik, she wanted to steer clear from it for a little while before pushing any buttons. Ada was a little different when I told her about Cristabel. Instead of becoming angered or outraged by Cristabel's judgment, she decided to brush it off her shoulders, claiming it was no skin off her back if someone assumed she was still a Templar.

"Why convince her with words when you can convince her with actions?" She said. "Actions do speak louder than words, after all."

As for Dabih and Merak, on the other hand, were quite the opposites when it came to us ex-Templars. They did not mind that we were once Templars before joining the ranks of the Assassins, but proud to have change the minds of people who had blindly followed a group of people forcing order and peace unto others. In fact, they wanted to get to know us better, asking questions about what our lives were like and what kind of life we had before even joining. Alexandra and Ada were a little less reluctant about giving away any personal information, usually asking questions about them to avoid giving away any personal information, but I was more than happy to speak about it. Although it was a past I did not want to remember, but I had to in order to remind myself as to why I joined the Assassins in the first place. For my aunt Amal, for Bernardo, who vanished mysteriously after Abel's invasion of Damascus; for my people.

I explained to him about the wedding between Abel and I, talking about the way he treated me during the time that we were engaged. They were not all that surprised; they had assumed that he was much too kind to everyone he saw to be any good, but they were not entirely sure until the time of his death. I also explained to them about the situation of my father and my diminishing relationship with him, giving up on trying to associate myself with him after everything that had happened. Dabih, much to my surprise, empathized with me.

"I did not have a good relationship with my father either," he explained, leaning against the railing overlooking the courtyard.

I looked at him and asked, "Really? How so?"

"Inferiority issues," Merak responded. I looked at him as he said, "We actually had an elder brother, before Dabih came into the picture. Our father was very praising of him and he seldom spent any time with us."

I looked between the two, unsure if I should ask what happened, but Dabih seemed to sense this and said, "Our brother was killed while he was making his way to Jerusalem. He was killed by bandits and his body was left near the lake."

"My God…" I muttered. "I'm…so sorry."

"Do not be so apologetic," Merak said, looking up at the sky. "It is the only reason why our father even looked in our direction again."

It was strange to know that someone else went through similar issues with their father. Granted, I did not think I was the only one, as many people could have been going through the same problems, but I did not expect to meet someone like that. It made me sympathize with Cristabel even more despite her hatred toward me. She had to have gone through so much when the eldest sibling was still alive; added with the fact that she was a woman, it would have been a little more difficult to grab his attention and communicate with him. We may have been on separate ends of the economic class, but the issues were not so different. Both of us wanted the love of our father, and we wanted to be loved by the last living member that we knew of so well. The only difference between the both of us was that I had a chance to make amends with my father, to change our past and start growing the relationship that had been broken apart for so many years. Cristabel, on the other hand, would never be able to get that chance; she would never be able to gain the love of her father. Instead, she replaced that love with hatred: hatred toward the men who killed him, hatred toward the Templars for doing nothing at all, hatred toward the one person who had a bigger voice than anyone else she knew of: me.

* * *

"Cynthia!" I looked over my shoulder to find Ada approaching me, her face a bit flushed from having jogged up hill in order to reach me. "I have been looking for you."

I shrugged, keeping the sack of food that I had bought securely in my hand.

"I was going to buy some food for when I return home," I explained to her as she made her way to stand next to me. "We were running a little low these past few days, and since Altaïr is busy with the affairs of the Assassins, I thought it would be nice to get it myself."

Ada's brows furrowed nervously.

"But you bought food yesterday and the day before that," she said. "Do you not think that it is a bit much for just two people?"

My head tilted a bit before shaking my head and saying, "There is nothing wrong with too much food, Ada. It will last us a good while." Before I turned away, Ada's hand fell upon my shoulder stopping me immediately. I looked at her as she pulled me away from the crowd, keeping the food securely in my arms. We made behind a few buildings free of most of the civilians nearby. When she was sure that no one would notice, Ada looked back at me. "What?" I inquired.

"Cynthia," she said, her voice low. "You did not tell him, did you?" I blinked; I pretended not to understand what she meant. She sighed. "Cynthia, you know what I am talking about." Forest green eyes shifted briefly. "Why have you not told him yet?"

This time, it was my turn to sigh.

"He is so busy with his work, and throwing this on him will only create a distraction," I explained to her. "He has enough to worry about as it is. Telling him that he is going to be a father will just add to the growing stress."

Ada placed a hand on my shoulder, a reassuring look in her eyes, and said, "It's been a month so far, Cynthia. I am sure he is becoming more and more suspicious of your actions. They are…out of character for you."

I shook my head, fixing the food that was still in my arms.

"I am not saying that I will not tell him," I started, turning away from her. "I just…I fear it is a bad time right now." I glanced at her. "With the arrival of our new recruits and keeping an eye on the Templars for suspicious activity, Altaïr is on edge." My head lowered. "I sound like a terrible person."

"Do not think such things," said Ada, placing her other hand on my shoulder. "You are good at heart and thinking of the well being of others before your own." She shrugged. "Granted, it may be dangerous, seeing as you are with child, but you are still good at heart." She smiled warmly. "There will come a time when you actually tell him of this, but until then think of your child."

I looked downward as if looking at the child that was growing within me. Maybe she was right; maybe there would come a time when I actually got the chance to speak with Altaïr about this matter. It was difficult to find the right time, what with the fact that he was worrying about the affairs of the Brotherhood added with the fact that we were waiting for the Templars to make their next move. So much stress and tension was building up with that, and just piling the fact that he was going to be a father would make matters worse than before. However, that was not the only problem that I had to deal with. The fact that Cristabel had plans to "expose" me as a spy for the Templars was stress enough for me, and I knew for certain that it would not be good for my child. Not only was the stress not safe for it, but the woman was threatening my life if she proved true, thus threatening the life of the child as well. Bringing up the news of a child may upset her even further; then again, what did it matter whether or not she knew? Altaïr was my husband, not her. I was going to bear his child in less than nine months, not her. I knew that I was no longer a Templar, so her attempts at proving herself would only become her embarrassment. As much as I would rather avoid doing that, she was bringing this upon herself; she would have to learn from her mistakes, as have I.

Blinking once, I looked back at her, a tiny smile gracing my lips.

"I suppose you are right, Ada," I said meekly. "Maybe I could tell him after he teaches me how to perform a leap of faith that I could tell him the news."

"What news?" I quickly looked over her shoulder to find the familiar face of Malik; he was looking at us with a curious expression in his dark colored eyes. He looked between the both of us briefly, noticing the surprised look in our eyes, before asking, "Is this news something we should worry about?"

Ada looked at me nervously, trying to find the right words, before looking back at him.

"Not…necessarily…" She said slowly. His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "It would not be considered bad news…per say. It depends on how you look at the situation."

He blinked; his expression did not change.

"You are not helping your case," he stated blandly as he approached us slowly. "By stating that it is not necessarily bad makes me worry."

"It is not bad, Malik," I found my voice, moving past Ada. "At least, not in your case." He stopped in front of me, waiting for me to state what I was trying to say. My eyes shifted briefly as I tried to word it right, but after some time, I simply sighed. "Malik…Altaïr…he is…" I trailed off, my head lowering.

"What?" Malik pressed. "Is he going to be a father or something?" The moment he said that, I slowly shrunk away, green eyes staring at the floor beneath my feet. He remained silent as well; no doubt that he put the facts together. However, his response was something I did not expect. "I thought that was the answer." He muttered to himself.

My head shot back up to him, eyes widening with surprise.

"You…you knew?" I questioned. He nodded. "But…but how?"

"Your personality was very different from what I had seen and what Altaïr told me," he replied. I looked at Ada with a surprised look, while she simply shrugged; she knew this would happen. "I am surprised the Grand Master has yet to find out about this." I looked back at Malik as he said that. "I am assuming you have yet to tell him, am I right?" My head lowered, looking at the food that was in my hand, before looking back at him and shaking my head. He sighed at that. "You know he is going to find out soon."

"I know that, but…" I started, "…but he already has so much to worry about. Becoming a father will result in him worrying about me, too." My eyes fell to the floor, my feet shuffling. "I do not want him stressed out because of me. He has enough to worry about."

"But Cynthia," spoke Ada, "if you say nothing to him and he finds out later, he may think you do not want the child."

I looked at her fearfully.

"No! I do want the child!" I exclaimed in a low tone of voice. "I just...I don't want to worry so much about me when I can defend myself."

"But how long will that last, Cynthia?" Malik questioned. I looked at him as he went on, "Eventually, you will not even be able to fight on your own let alone set foot out of Masyaf. Not only that, but being sent out on missions will risk losing the child."

Green eyes shifted as I thought about his words. He had a point; if I did not tell Altaïr the news that he was going to be a father, I would risk being sent on a mission and risk losing my own child, i_our_/i own child. I may have been worried about his stress and worry, but I had to think realistically. If I was sent out on a mission, having not told my husband the news, then there would be no doubt that I would be, metaphorically, sending my child to be murdered at the hands of the Templars. Eyes narrowing, I felt myself tense and even started to feel nauseous. There would be no chance that I would allow such a thing to happen, especially if the life of my unborn child was at stake. Just the thought made me feel uncomfortable, and my stomach started to churn nervously as my mind continued to show images depicting what could have been my future.

I could see myself ruining the relationship between Altaïr and I. I could see his eyes filling with distrust and horror over the news of our child's demise. He would feel a sense of betrayal and wonder why I refused to tell him the truth. He would believe, as Ada put it, that I did not want the child at all, and wonder about our marriage. I saw images of battle between the Assassins and Templars; my sword clashing against the blade of a Templar moments the enemy drove his weapon into my abdomen, killing the child instantly. I could feel myself falling over to the ground, gripping my bleeding stomach and screaming to God why such a thing could happen. Images like that among others appeared before my green hues, and it was more than enough to convince me of what needed to be done. As much as I would rather keep it from him for a little while longer, I feared that a little while longer may be putting the child in danger. I did not know for sure, but such a thing could not be risked, not if it meant harming my soon-to-be family.

With a quivering sigh, I looked between Malik and Ada.

"You...are right..." I spoke, my gaze falling upon the former Dai. "The news of his fatherhood must not be kept secret. It would be wrong of me to do such a thing." My head lowered. "I must tell Altaïr the truth. No secrets."

"_What...?_" My head shot past Malik as I spotted the familiar figure of Cristabel, staring at me as though she had seen or heard something that she should not have. In reality, she did, and that was what made me worry.

Frantically, I handed the food in my hand to Ada and approached.

"Cristabel!" I spoke, stopping a few meters from her. "I did not...I did not expect you to-"

"To hear that you are now using the excuse of an innocent, unborn child to convince your friends of your loyalty to the Assassins?" She hissed, taking a few steps toward me. Her eyes were filled with anger and rage. "You really are as pathetic as they come."

"No! That is not that!" I tried to reason, taking a single step back but keeping my ground. I lowered my voice to avoid people from hearing - to my surprise, there was not a lot of people passing by, and if there were, they did not hear me. "I...would never lie about being with child."

She sneered and went on, "Oh, that is rich. Now you will try to convince me otherwise, claim that you would never do such a thing." Her glare hardened, blue eyes turning darker in the lighting. "Do not try to fool me with your excuses, _Templar_. And do not try to use a child as a means to gain the Assassin's trust."

"That is not what I intended, Cristabel!" I tried to explain. "Please, let me explain!"

"Why should I allow you to explain anything, daughter of Richard?" She growled, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You people never gave my father a chance to explain anything; they just killed him without a single thought. Why, by the name of whatever being floats in the sky, should I give you that opportunity?" I was unable to respond to those words; I was speechless. There was no way I could speak now that she brought her own father into the matter. With one last hard glare, she turned away. "That was what I thought. You are all nothing but heartless bastards that care for nothing but spreading their power unto others and killing those who defy the Order." She looked over her shoulder. "You should be disgusted for lying to the Master about his family. In fact," She turned to face me, "he deserves much better than trash like you."

My eyes widened as she turned back around and stormed off, leaving me horrified and hurt all at once. I never expected those words to escape anyone's lips, yet when I heard them it made me wonder. Did Altaïr really deserve better than me? Out of all the women in the world, women that could have been Assassins like him (after Al Mualim's demise), and he chose me out of every single one of them. Was I really worth his love, the love he so graciously gave to me? Did I really deserve to have someone like him as a husband, as a father to my family? The thoughts made my heart shatter to pieces. _Oh no_, I thought. _Now I'm starting to question the love of my own husband_. Tears began to fill in my eyes, and my chest started to clench tightly. I knew I was going to fall apart as the thoughts passed through my mind. I could no longer stay out here.

That being said, my hand fell upon my lips as I took off back to my home, ignoring Ada's calls to come back. I did not want to listen; no accused disgrace of a wife to her husband deserved consolation from friends.


	6. Leap of Faith

**_The Next__ Day…_**

"Are you sure you are feeling alright, Cynthia?" Altaïr asked as we made our way to the top of the tower. My head was a little low, and I resisted the urge to place my hand on my stomach. "You do not appear up to speed to practice the Leap of Faith today."

I woke up feeling terrible and even felt sick to my stomach; two things that were not good on my part. The fact that my pregnancy was giving me morning sickness forced me to make up excuses for my early absences. That was only just one reason behind my difference in character. Yesterday's event with Cristabel made me feel even worse. I did not leave my home for the rest of the day, too depressed to even visit my husband. Ada was able to stop by and return the food I had left with her, trying her best to come up with something to say but to no avail. She had never been placed in that situation, and she was utterly surprised by Cristabel's honesty and straightforwardness to display her hatred of the Templars. I could not blame her for such a thing; we never had to deal with someone who so strongly hated us - or what we were - that it never really crossed our minds to worry as much as we were now. It was foreign to us, leaving us open to any verbal threats that the person would send our way. Now that we were Assassins, the only way to defend ourselves is to say we were not Templars. With Cristabel, she was not going to simply take that as an excuse; she wanted more.

Speaking of the newest recruit, I still felt her eyes boring into the back of my head, glaring at me as if I had committed an unspeakable crime. In her eyes, I did. I neglected to save her father when the Templars attacked her home. How could I when I knew nothing about it? The Templars, even though I was one, did their best to keep me out of the affairs when "dealing with the Assassins." In other words, they did not want to tell me about the people they killed. That was understandable; I was much to naïve at the time to really understand. I would have immediately tried to stop it. I would have saved Cristabel's father had I known about it. Unfortunately, I never found out, and the man lost his life because of it. It was for that reason that she refused to believe anything I said about being innocent. She did not think so; she did not think that way because she knew I could have done something to help her father. She knew I was capable of doing something. If only she would listen to reason; if only she would understand why I was unable to save her father when I could have. Children could always be the most stubborn.

Glancing at Altaïr, I sent him a soft smile.

"I am fine, my dear," I assured him. I looked at the sky. "I think the weather is making me feel…a little less excited or exhilarated today."

"Yes, I am sure that is the reason…" I heard Cristabel mutter sarcastically, already seeing through my lies; but her words were, fortunately, missed by Altaïr.

"You have been acting very odd as of late," he went on to say. I looked forward, my heart thumping against my chest. "Like last night. You were home long before I even arrived, and you appeared upset with something."

I would have looked over my shoulder at Cristabel, but that would give away the fact that I was hiding something. Instead, I replied, "I suppose…I was feeling a little homesick." He gave me a confused look. "It is no lie that I have thought of my father once in awhile, seeing as how he is still my family. I guess I thought about him too much and became upset."

"I would take you to see him, but I do not think the time would be best," he explained, looking forward as we walked up to the ladder leading inside. "With the Templars still fuming over the loss of Abel as well as your defection, going to your father may turn into a permanent stay."

I frowned at that, my head falling to the ground. He was right about that; seeing my father would, without a doubt, possibly cause me to stay there permanently. It was something I would much rather avoid altogether, especially when I was with child. However, I realized that it was still a lie, though I soon noticed that it was a little true as well. I did start to miss my father despite everything that happened. He only did the things he did because he thought it was right. He did not want to believe that Abel was evil and started to push those thoughts away. In turn, that caused me to be pushed away, and it was too late to stop it by the time he realized the truth behind the Englishman's motives. When I thought about it, it was not necessarily his fault; in fact, I could not really say it was Abel's fault either. From my understanding, it was all the cause of the woman named Clarice, a name both Abel and Diana muttered before their untimely deaths. Who knew what kind of influence she had upon Abel's mind, causing him to be selfish and power-hungry until the day he died? That, however, was a topic of different importance.

"I suppose you are right," I replied. Instead of continuing further with the conversation, I turned around to look at Cristabel once we stopped in front of said ladder. Her blue eyes remained hard, yet she said nothing as she passed us and made her way to the top. I watched her for a moment and sighed when her robes disappeared from sight. "I'm afraid my relationship with Cristabel is not getting any better," I said, changing the subject to the woman who was following us.

Altaïr looked at me and asked, "What makes you say that?"

Resisting the desire to tell him of what happened yesterday, I decided to change it slightly by saying, "She still refuses to believe that Ada, Alexandra and I are truly Assassins."

"Does it really matter what she thinks?" He inquired. "If you know that your loyalties lie with us, what should it matter?"

I looked at him.

"I would rather be able to work well with her than to be distant," I explained. "In a way, we are all like family, and if one part of the family refuses to cooperate, then we will fall apart." I looked back up the ladder; somehow, I knew she was listening, and I hoped she would take my words to heart. "I know she treats me as if I mean nothing, especially after her father's demise at the hands of the Templars, but that does not mean I will treat her in the same manner."

"You refuse to stoop to her level," he stated as he looked in the same direction as I was. "You refuse to act childishly as she has been."

"No," I replied, "she is not childish at all." I looked at him again. "I believe she thinks with her emotions more than her instincts. Due to her deep hatred for the Templars, she feels that working with whom she believes is one will only bring about her own downfall." I blinked as my head lowered a bit. "I would like for her to see me as an equal someday, but for now we must worry about what really matters." I looked back at him just as he looked at me, sending him a warm smile. "And that is to become full-fledged Assassins."

With that, I took hold of the ladder and made my way up, leaving behind a silent Altaïr to follow. When I reached the top, I looked up to only find two Assassins standing guard, silent as statue. Standing up, I made my way over the second ladder that was there, nodding at each of them before making my way up the ladder. Even though Cristabel was not there, I had a feeling that she heard everything that was said. Maybe she decided to take what had been said to heart, but that was a thought that was only dreamt. She was stubborn, more so than Malik and Alexandra combined into one, and convincing her was no easy task. She wanted proof of my loyalties, proof that I was not going to betray the Assassins for my own deeds or the Templars. That was all she wanted, yet there was no way I could prove myself on my own. Being amongst the Assassins was no enough. She wanted more, yet more was far too out of my reach. It made the matter just even more difficult than it had to be.

Reaching the top of the ladder, I stood up and looked forward, spotting the familiar dark hair that belonged to Cristabel. She was leaning against a pillar and looking out at one of the three wooden planks, suspended over a height unknown to me. A light breeze brushed past, dancing with her novice robes for only a moment before subsiding. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her mind was off in a world far from this one. At least, that was what I thought it was. The moment I took a step forward, she spoke.

"I am a little surprised…" I blinked and furrowed my thin brows, wondering what she meant. "You do not see me as a child, and you still see me as an ally." Her head slowly turned over her shoulder a bit, but she did not look at me. "Why is that, I wonder…"

Knowing that my assumptions were true, I slowly approached her.

"I know that your hatred for me and my friends, for what we once were, is stemmed from the loss of your father at the hands of the Templars." She did not say a word to that; she must have known that her brothers informed me of the matter. "Not only is it because of what they did to him, but I believe it is because of me. You think I am at fault for not stopping it." I stopped to stand next to her, looking at her in a friendly manner. "I cannot be upset with someone who only despise me for personal reasons, reasons that I was unable to stop."

"You could have, you know," she finally said, looking back out at the mountains. "You could have prevented everything, yet you did nothing."

"I was uninformed of what they were doing," I answered, also looking out at the scene. "Had I known, I would have tried to put a stop to it." Even though I was not looking at her, I could tell that her eyes shifted for a moment. It was at that point that I sighed and looked at her again. "Cristabel, I do not want us to be enemies. We are both Assassins, and we must learn to work together. It is as I told Altaïr; in a way, we are all like family. We work together, we fight together, and we die together." My eyes lowered for a moment before looking out at the mountains again. "If one person is unable to cooperate, then we will fall apart. We will be defeated by the Templars, and their way of life will spread throughout the world." I paused. "I know your father would never allow something like that, and you know that as well."

She looked at me, her blue eyes widening slightly; she was surprised by the words I spoke, but that look of surprise disappeared almost instantly as she sighed.

"I know trusting you will never be an option in my life," she started, "but…I suppose you are right. Other than my brothers, the Assassins are the only family I have left now. My father would have wanted me to do this." I looked at her, finally catching her blue hues looking at me. "I will still try to expose you for the Templar you are…but until then…" She closed her eyes, "we are…_comrades_…"

I smiled warmly at those words. Even though they were rather unexpected, I was glad she was slowly - painstakingly, at that - starting to come to terms with me being with the Assassins. I expected it to be much longer for her to do such a thing; then again, her trust was something entirely different. Trust is the most precious item a person could give to another, and it is difficult to obtain. Putting trust in another person is like giving a piece of a person's soul to that person, believing that anything that was said between the two would be kept safe or that promises would be kept safe unless told otherwise. It was no surprise to me that she was not going to give up her trust as easily as her acceptance to my being here; in fact, it was understandable. She had a true reason to distrust any and all Templars, and her reason were clear to her. That being said, I was not going to convince her to give it to me. Earning that was the best way to receive it.

Before silence could set in, I looked over my shoulder to spot Altaïr approaching us. Like Cristabel, he heard our conversation and knew what was said. I simply smiled while Cristabel looked over at him as well, removing herself from the wall and turning to face him.

"Master," she spoke, bowing slightly as a sign of respect. She acted as if he did not hear anything, though she knew that it was not the case.

He simply nodded in her direction before looking between the both of us.

"Today I will show you how to master the Leap of Faith," he spoke, sounding very much like the Master he was meant to be. I stood up straight, inhaling deeply."This technique can be used during your travels through any of the cities, and it may be used to escape from your enemies." He glanced at me for a moment before continuing, "Although it appears easy, it can also be deadly. Falling at the wrong angle may result in injuries or even death. It must not be taken lightly."

He started to move toward us, passing by as if he were slipping through the crowd in the streets; a blade in the crowd. "That being said, I want you to think of an eagle, soaring through the skies and flowing with the wind." Cristabel and I turned to look at him as he approached the edge of the wooden plank. "Think of the wind carrying you from beneath your wings as you drop, as if cradling you to the bottom safely and soundly. "Do not hesitate for a moment when performing this." The wind brushed past his robes as he stopped right at the edge. "Do not hesitate…and just let go of everything." I reveled at the sight for a moment; he truly looked similar to that of an eagle. "Once you have done that…"

Before he could finish his sentence, he fell forward and over the edge, disappearing from sight in a matter of seconds. I gasped and was about to run to the edge, but Cristabel stopped me by placing a hand on my shoulder. She knew that I had never seen such a thing happen, especially when it happened to my own husband. When I looked at her, I noticed the look in her eyes; they were vacant and void of emotion. To my surprise, she was following his words to the very point. She was imagining herself as the eagle, flying through the air and carrying it beneath its wings. With that in mind, I watched as she slowly approached the edge, the wind brushing against her robes as she slowly approached the edge. Her stride was very graceful, as if every step had to be perfect in order for the Leap of Faith to truly be perfected. I watched her intently, almost like I was trying to mimic her walk in my own mind, before she stopped on the edge as well. Her concentration was completely focused on what she was going to do. She wanted it to be perfect, as perfect as Altaïr's may have been. When a few moments passed by, she followed her Master and fell over the edge, vanishing in an instant.

At that point, I found myself standing alone, staring at the edge intently. My mind started to race in that instant, though I did not feel as hesitant as I thought I would be. The only reason why I would be hesitant was because of my unborn child. Even though I was sure that my drop would be a safe landing, I feared of landing in a position that would result in hurting the child. It did not matter if I was hurt in the fall; it was the child I worried most about. It had no way to protect itself or heal if it had gotten hurt. However, when I thought about it, I started to think about it thoroughly. My pregnancy was not very far into the development, seeing as how I could easily walk on my own two feet without the need for assistance. I could easily run without much trouble, and the result of an injury to the stomach was very low in this case. It made me think that, as dangerous as it was for me, the child would truly be left unharmed and left injury free. The child would be safe; the child would live.

Inhaling deeply, I started to slowly walk toward the edge of the plank, recalling the steps Cristabel had taken before reaching the edge and leaping to the bottom. It almost looked as though I was just walking, but it was when I took a moment to look down that it turned out to be a very bad idea. I nearly pale at how high it was to reach the bottom, spotting the yellow belonging to the hale bales. A strong sense of nausea crashed over me, and I thought I was going to feel sick to my stomach. I quickly looked forward again, focusing on the task at hand. I tried to relax, inhaling and exhaling as slowly and as calmly as possible. The jump may have been rather high, but if done correctly it would be fairly easy to master in just a short amount of time. If Cristabel was able to do it with ease, then I could have done the same without much trouble. The point was to have confidence: confidence in myself, confidence in my success, confidence in general.

Before I knew it, I had unconsciously stopped at the edge of the plank. I chose against looking down again, not wanting to bring about that sense of fear that gripped me moments ago. Instead, it was replaced by…well, to put it simply, nothing. I could not feel anything in my body, as if it had gone numb. The wind brushed against my robes, made them dance to their own music, before ceasing. I stared out at the mountains that sat in front of me, green eyes scanning over the wondrous scenery. Despite the numbing feeling that overcame me, I could sense a hint of peace and tranquility. I felt as though life was starting to balance itself out again, returning to what I thought was normal. When another moment passed by, my eyes caught sight of a bird flying past. To my surprise, it was a young dove soaring through the skies as well as an eagle would. I watched as it circled about a moment, mimicking the mannerisms of its predatory counterpart, before flying past the mountains and disappearing from sight. I smiled; it was just enough to give me a confidence boost, assure me that things were going to get better.

With that in mind, I lost control of my body as I fell forward and off the edge.

I was hit hard with strong rushes of wind as my body fell toward the bottom, where the bale of hay remained stagnant. The wind literally knocked the breath out of me, and I would no doubt be shaken the moment I landed. However, since the fall was going to be quick, I had to think fast and act instinctively if I wanted to live from the fall. If I fell in the hay face first, that would be the end of it. My neck would snap, and I would be dead within seconds. That being said, I focused my weight on flipping my body forward, moving into a position in which I was falling back first. As I looked up at the sky again, I spotted the familiar dove flying over me once again, circling around as if searching for something. It floated gracefully as its wings flapped once, twice, then three times. I could not help but smile once again, knowing that it was the universal sign for peace and faith: two things that this world would have some day. Little did I realize the importance of seeing that; little did I realize that it was also a foreshadow for the future.

Moments later, my body slammed into the hay, rattling through my body several times before ceasing. As expected, my body shook almost violently as I sat up, struggling with the hay that now surrounded me. Instead of trying to stand, I chose to flip myself over and crawl out, fortunate that my hands were covered so I would not cut myself. As I did that, I heard a soft chuckle come from above me before spotting a pair of feet in front of me. I stopped before looking up, catching a glimpse of my husband looking down at me before falling to one knee and helping me up. I had to cling to him for a moment along the way, but I was able to use what strength I had left to get up. I was still quivering due to the impact and the fall, but I was certain that I would live. After taking a moment, I looked up at him sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for the performance. To my surprise, though, he only said one thing, one that told me that I had succeeded in the fall:

"You've done well, my dear. You've done well."


	7. Gwendolyn's Plan

_**General POV**_

"So…what you are saying, Gwendolyn," Richard started, looking away from the scene of trees and brush that sat below his balcony, over his shoulder to spot the ever-present, calm figure that was Gwendolyn, "is that…is that you plan to lure her out of hiding?"

The Englishwoman smiled at his words, her face keeping a mysterious expression, and nodded once in response to his words. Even though his hesitancy was rather eminent when recalling what she had spoke of, she was glad that she would not have to repeat herself as she had to do with her soldiers. She had explained her simple, yet complex - in her opinion - plan to bring Cynthia back from the Assassins that brainwashed her and return her to the loving arms of her father. Gwendolyn did not want to waste her time planning out an elaborate plan just for her; that would have been too difficult. It was bad enough she hated repeating herself, especially when it was to the soldiers who were supposed to keep their ears open and pay attention the moment she entered the room. Doing so with the king was something she would much rather avoid. Becoming frustrated in front of the king would cause distrust and tension, a situation to averted altogether. She wanted the king to know that she had it covered, that she would bring Cynthia back to him as soon as she could. She wanted his trust for a little while longer; after that, however, was an entirely different story, one that was best left for another moment in time.

On a different note, she wanted to avoid repeating herself because it was just a waste of time. The Assassins were always on their toes, preparing themselves for any attacks that anyone - mainly the Templars - would perform at any point in time. Every day they were growing stronger and stronger, their ranks increasing with the coming of new members willing to throw down their lives for their worthless cause. In the end, Cynthia would be surrounded by comrades, even if her presence was enough to rise tension due to her past as a Templar. The thought almost made Gwendolyn frown in disgust. As much as she would rather keep her alive, she thought the only way to obtain the woman was to attack Masyaf head on. The lives of her men were not worth the life of a single woman, whether she was a stranger to the world or the daughter of King Richard. Still, to the King, the matter was very important. With the conflicting ideas of sending in and possibly losing men in comparison to how important the matter was, Gwendolyn thought long and hard on what she could do to avoid a blood bath. In the end, she went with something so simple, yet at the same time elaborate enough to make it seem complex: she was going to indirectly lure the King's daughter out into the open.

"Yes, my Lord," she spoke, moving one foot in front of the other as she gracefully strode over the King. Since her robe was removed by someone standing outside the door, her attire was seen. This day, she was a bit more modest, but the reason behind it was unclear. "That was what I had in mind. "

Richard's eyes shifted as he asked, "Why not just send your men as I had mentioned before?" She would have frowned, but she knew he would ask that. "It would be much easier to just send them in and take her."

"But my Lord," she started, "if we do that, not only would I lose some of my best men, but you would strain your relationship with Cynthia even further."

He blinked, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach for just a split second. It almost made her smile; she knew she hit a personal nerve by mentioning the relationship that was currently between the King and his daughter.

"How so?" He questioned slowly.

She stopped next to him, placing her hands against the marble railing of the balcony.

"Think about it," she started to explain. "She already sees you as an uncaring leader and a careless father as it is. By sending in men to take her , not only will you be putting the life of her comrades and the lives of the soldiers, but you will be taking her away from what she believes makes her…happy." She looked at the king; there was a distant look in his eyes, yet she knew he was listening. "I am…assuming it is the reason she left in the first place?"

His eyes shifted a moment in thought before responding with, "Something along those lines, yes."

"Well, based on that," Gwendolyn went on, "by sending in an army, you will just be showing her that you do not care for the lives of others and you do not care about her happiness." He said nothing for a long moment, giving her the opportunity to continue. "My words may seem confusing at best, but believe me avoiding a physical fight would be the best course of action in this case." Then, she chuckled and looked out at the land, surveying it as if searching for something. "Now a mental battle…is of a different nature altogether."

Richard looked at her for a moment before asking, "How do you plan to do that?"

She smiled; even though it looked sweet and gentle as a young and innocent child, even Richard could tell that it was just hiding something bigger and darker.

"It is…very simple, really, when you think on it," she stated. "As I said before, by using the method of emotional fighting, it would be much easier to lead her out of hiding."

"Fighting a mental battle sounds much more dangerous," Richard pointed out.

"My Lord, you of all people should know that nothing in life comes easy," she said. When she felt his gaze move toward the land she went on. "By fighting this battle through the mind, as I have come to learn through trial and error, it seems that it would the more effective power to use against someone like Cynthia."

"What makes you think it will work?"

"Judging by the sudden change of alliances, there is no doubt that she will feel some guilt for leaving her life behind, especially with the people she once lived with." Gwendolyn closed her eyes, leaning against the cold railing with her arms in a relaxed manner.. "If I am not mistaken, Cynthia's mind will be fragile, broken by the thoughts of whether or not her decision was truly the right choice in the end. By now, I am positive the Assassins will be weary of Cynthia's presence. No doubt they know just who she is, adding the tension and cracking Cynthia's mind even further." She opened her eyes again. "With that in mind, we need to push her to the edge, so much that she will leave the Assassins on her own accord."

Richard looked at her again, noting the look in her eyes. He could tell that she had thought a lot about what to do in the situation in her hand, so much she was able to cover as much of the flaws as she possibly could. He did not see anything wrong with it other than how long it would take for Cynthia to break under the pressure. The question was…how was Gwendolyn going to push her to that point? With her plan in mind, how was she going to push Cynthia to the edge and force her out of Masyaf, out of the hands of the Assassins and back under the wings of the Templars? As if knowing what he was thinking, Gwendolyn looked at him.

"You are wondering how I plan to pull her out," she questioned, "are you not?"

After a moment of silence, he nodded and said, "What did you have in mind?"

Without a moment of hesitation, she replied simply with, "We turn the Assassins against her."

Eyes widened as he turned to face Gwendolyn, surprised by the words that escaped her lips so easily. She wanted to turn the Assassins against Cynthia, his own daughter? He thought it was far-fetched, so far from succeeding that the thought should have never crossed her mind. Not only that, but the mental stability of his daughter would further be fractured were she to be turned away by the people she wanted to join. Who knew what kind of state she would be in if she was suddenly turned away so soon? In his mind, she would be devastated, betrayed by the people she thought she could trust with her life. He would rather avoid such an event, but what other option did he have? Gwendolyn raised good points about sending in an army to get her out of Assassin grasp. A physical fight would best be avoided not only for the lives of the soldiers, but for the relationship between himself and Cynthia. It was bad enough he drove her away for not being a good father; sending in an army just to bring her back would only upset her further than before.

He frowned at that. He did not want to damage what little he had of his father-daughter bond, knowing that it still had to be there in some way. With that in mind, maybe the plan Gwendolyn came up with would be the safest way. Maybe if the Assassins turned on her, she would wanted someone to accept her again, someone like her father. She would not go to the Templars again, as far as he knew; she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with them after murdering Abel, who was a Templar at the time. If she went to her father, would was on neither side, then maybe things would return to normal. Granted, her mind would still be in a fragile and broken state, he would do everything in his power to rekindle the bond they once shared when she still a young child. There was still a chance, as difficult as it was to get to that point. In the end, Richard realized he would do anything just to have Cynthia back with him. Besides, he still had a promise to keep to Jamila, her mother. It was a promise he intended to keep all the way to the bitter end. If only there was an easier way to go about it.

With a heavy sigh, he looked back at Gwendolyn, who was waiting expectantly for a response. After another moment, he asked, "What did you have in mind?"

She smiled, pleased that he was willing to go through with her plan, before saying, "I decided to go with a simple plan of attack, so simple one would not even tell it was meant to be an 'attack,' so to speak." She stood up straight. "A letter, written in a way that will have the Assassins accuse her of being a spy. No doubt there is at least one person who would believe such a thing." She looked at Richard. "And if one person believes it, the others will follow suit and accuse her of the same crime."

"What of the Assassin Altaïr?" Richard asked. "I am almost certain he will defend her."

"That may be, but it will be Cynthia's decision to leave," Gwendolyn explained. "Altaïr may be able to defend her against the accusations, but Cynthia will want to be accepted by everyone in order to stay. Just having her friends by her side may just be one part of it, but it is a whole other story when more people are against her. It is a natural instinct to try and feel welcomed amongst a group of people, and Cynthia will want to feel that welcomed feeling for the rest of her life." She turned around and began walking away. "If she cannot feel it there, then she will leave, whether her friends try to keep her there or not." She smiled. "In the end, she will come crawling back into your arms once again."

Richard closed his eyes before turning to look at her again.

"When will this plan take place?" He questioned.

She stopped a moment before looking over her shoulder.

"I will have to forge the letter first before having a spy send it to her," she said. "I have to make sure that it looks close enough to be a letter of acceptance, claiming that we had gotten word of what the Assassins were planning. With that in place, it will all be downhill from there…for Cynthia at least." The way she said those words made him glare at her lightly as she turned back around and began walking toward the door. He did not like the tone she had taken, but said nothing as he began following her. "Well, I am glad we were able to discuss this, my Lord, but I must be off. I must run my men through tests to prove their worth. Later tonight, I should get started on the letter." She stopped at the door and looked at the King, who approached the foot of his bed in thought. Blinking, she put on a smile and said, "Do not worry so much, my Lord. Your daughter is much closer to you than you think."

With those words spoken, she opened the door and left, leaving the King to his thoughts. When the door closed, her smile instantly faded in a matter of seconds. Her hand remained on the handle of the door and her head was low. _What a careless man_, she told herself, biting her tongue lightly out of frustration. He was so desperate to find his daughter he just allowed her to walk out of the room with a plan to destroy his daughter's sanity. She almost found it funny were it not for his stupidity to boot. She found herself laughing on the inside for not seeing through the ruse she had put up, the fake respect she had given him the entire time that she plotted the whole thing and spoke to him to assure him of what was to happen. In fact, she hated the man; she thought he was too weak, that he was not doing enough for the land. When news had gotten out that Robert de Sable, the Grand Master of the Templars, was killed, she was outraged. In a way, she thought of him as weak for a time, but it increased after his untimely demise. Anyone that could easily be killed or foiled was deemed weak in her eyes. If one could not live long enough to see their plans come to fruition and succeed, than Gwendolyn wanted nothing to do with them.

"Milady, are we leaving?" Blue eyes glanced at the young woman, cloaked in all white except for her eyes. It was a handmaiden that accompanied Gwendolyn on her travels to see Richard, who had waited outside the whole time for Gwendolyn's return. In her arms she held the dark cloak worn when she arrived; it was neatly folded and handed toward Gwendolyn in a respectful manner. However, instead of appreciating the offer, Gwendolyn glared and tore the cloak from the maiden's arms and put it on.

"Yes, we are," she grumbled, briskly walking past her without giving her a second glance. "Let us not waste any time."

Before she even had the chance to walk down the hall, her maiden spoke again, but the words that came out stopped Gwendolyn in her tracks: "You really are a fool…"

Gwendolyn froze before turning around, a glare clear in her eyes. The maiden did not move, but kept her back facing her mistress.

"Come again, _slave_?" Gwendolyn hissed, turning just enough to get a better view of the maiden.

After a moment, the white cloaked woman turned as well, mirroring Gwendolyn's actions; the only difference was the glare, which was non-existent.

"You do not realize the situation that you have placed yourself into," she stated. "You do not realize what you have started."

"What are you talking about?" The dark haired woman questioned.

The woman in white turned to face Gwendolyn completely before saying, "You think that just because you have gained the King's trust it means the battle will move in your favor? That feigning sympathy will move you forward in life?" She paused. "You truly are the queen of the fools, Gwendolyn."

Rolling her eyes, Gwendolyn turned around again.

"Why should I listen to someone like you?" She questioned. When the woman did not reply, Gwendolyn went on. "Just because you think you know something does not make it true." She closed her eyes. "The only fool I see is Richard, who is too blind to see what is really going on."

"Emotions are not one to be played with, Gwendolyn," the woman spoke, "as bad things tend to happen on a much more dangerous scale."

"They if they can be manipulated to one's advantage," Gwendolyn responded, chuckling as memories of past lovers came to mind. "Just look at the men and women who fell for the lies that were spoon fed to them; so easy to go with the flow."

The woman's eyes narrowed harshly.

"Your downfall will come faster than you think," she stated, approaching her mistress at a slow pace. "So much that it may be right before your very eyes." It was at that point that Gwendolyn laughed out loud, but low enough to avoid any eyes that may have been nearby. The woman in white blinked. "Something funny, mistress?"

When her laughter died down, Gwendolyn looked at the woman again, who had stopped just a few feet from her.

"You are mistaken, my dear servant," she said in a prideful tone. "I cannot die. I am not weak like Robert de Sable or Richard the Lionheart; they were careless in what they were doing and ended up being foiled." She blinked. "Well, Robert lost his fight to the Assassins and ended up dying. Richard…well, let us assume that he was much too distracted by the bastard child he calls a daughter." She looked forward, raising her head and her chest a bit. "As for me, I know that my plans will not be foiled nor will I be beaten by the Assassins so easily. As far as I know, I have already won this war." She chuckled. "Oh yes, I have already won."

Without another word, Gwendolyn began moving once again, leaving behind her handmaiden to think on the words that were spoken. Despite her mistress's confidence, the woman in white knew better than to just agree with Gwendolyn and move on. Anything could happen to foil her plans, yet Gwendolyn was much too naïve to fully comprehend that fact. No matter what was said to her, it was clear that Gwendolyn's confidence bested any logic that would be spoken of. That was what worried the maiden…if she had enough heart to actually care for her mistress. Even though she was made to serve Gwendolyn, the young woman could not resist in questioning and pointing out the flaws of every plan that Gwendolyn came up with. As far as the maiden was concerned, Gwendolyn was a terrible commander of an army, and even more so with creating plans of action. No matter how much she tried to create a perfect and flawless plan, there would always be something to get in the way and foil it. Unfortunately, due to Gwendolyn's overconfidence and prideful demeanor, the blame would be put on someone else. That was where the maiden lost respect for Gwendolyn, what little she had for her anyway.

With a heavy sigh, the maiden began moving her own feet in order to follow Gwendolyn out of the King's place of living. Deep down she knew that, without a doubt, Gwendolyn would one day be foiled, and the blame would be placed on her. In the end, the dark haired woman would end up calling herself weak.


End file.
